


In Which Bruce Suffers A Crisis

by idgit_with_a_fidget



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bruce Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idgit_with_a_fidget/pseuds/idgit_with_a_fidget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce suddenly has a crisis of self-belief, and begins to doubt the very skin he lives in, as well as his relationship with a certain billionaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Bruce Suffers A Crisis

The kisses still surprised him.

It was strange to think that these moments –whether it be a simple peck or a tug at his lower lip with fervent teeth or the occasional hint of soft tongue on his own- were still causing him a sense of shock and perhaps even disgust. It was odd and confusing still, as though the world still shivered whenever their skin brushed, as though somewhere buried inside of himself a small niggle scolded him for his actions as they continued their thus-far undisclosed affair behind the locked, bolted, steel plated adamantine doors of the Tower. Soundproofed. Just in case.

The scientist looked down at his hands. He turned them over so he was peering at his raw red knuckles, and then over again at his pale scratched palms, and then repeated this until he was unsure what the point of the exercise was. It marvelled him, his own body; the way it could somehow keep such a brute prisoner inside a frail sheet of cells, the way it seemed to move as though by magic, the way it could repel and attract even the slightest of things, from a flu-virus to the gaze of a billionaire. He remembered goosebumps and the hairs standing on end, he remembered burns and the pigment turning a scalded brown. He remembered the tearing of the fragile membrane, the bleeding, the bruising, the-

He stopped himself. He closed his eyes and thought of nothing. Anything to stop the thoughts. 

Is this too cliché? He thought for a moment. Perhaps it wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was just allowing his mind to be clouded by awe of the technology, the innovation, the intrigue and wonder and wow. Maybe that little hesitation of his breath was for the reactor in his chest, for that luminescent blue glow, for that intricate cross-section. Maybe it wasn’t for the kisses at all; or the sound of a whispering voice, or itch of stubble when faces met. Maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe he was in love with the computer, not the mind that programmed it. Was that even possible? Was it his lust for advances, for manufactured nature that drove him? Had he been kidding himself this entire time? Was he leading the other on to heartbreak? To…to something more?

A sense of despondency struck him in the darkened room, designed to dim when the headaches pounced. He blinked around in the dark and massaged his temples, rubbing in little circles as though to bore a hole in his skull. To be responsible for such a thing…it wasn’t impossible. He groaned to himself, a sudden sickness churning his intestines. What cruelty the world played on his already deluded brain.

Light trickled into the opaque room. It was a glowing cyan, a near pulsating blue. The monster in human skin lifted his head and blinked his eyes at it, and decided not to worry; some surprises were nice surprises.


End file.
